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“Am I now.”
“Yes, you are.”
They lay there for what felt like an eternity, and the peacefulness was a water level nourishing a dry lake bed.
“Hey,” he whispered, “can I ask you something?”
Lydia nodded. “Anything.”
“Will you marry me?” As she felt herself jerk in surprise, he shrugged. “I know that I’m supposed to be on one knee, and it’s supposed to be at sunset, and we’re supposed to have a photograph so you can post online—”
Lydia kissed him and said yes at the same time, and then they were laughing.
“It’s why I took you to the apple orchard,” he said. “I thought it was pretty romantic. I don’t know,we don’t have beaches up here, and even if we did, November is November. But those trees, you know. I thought in the spring when you went by them they’d be in bloom and you’d remember that I loved you.”
Lydia’s smile slipped a little. Slipped a lot. “I will always know you love me. Always.”
“My wolf… my beautiful wolf.”
They kissed again, but this was different. It was a vow, not a start of something sexual or a way to finish off a session of making love.
“I should get you a ring,” he murmured.
“I don’t wear them?” She flared out one of her hands. “I like to be able to change at will, and I would hate to lose it.”
“I know something else then. We can go—”
The knock on the door was not shy. And then a familiar voice: “You guys up? I need to talk to Daniel.”
As Daniel sat forward, Lydia tucked the covers under her armpits and did the same. “Gus—”
“Gus?”
The door opened wide and there the doctor was, up on his feet, dressed in blue surgical scrubs, looking like himself. Well, almost himself. The swelling and the bruising were still on his face, and he hung on to the doorjamb like he was not completely sure of his ability to stay standing.
Daniel yanked the duvet over his naked body. “Hey, are you okay—”
Gus put an arm over his eyes. “Jesus, when am I going to learn not to walk in on people—”
“No, it’s okay,” Lydia said. “But why are you out of bed?”
“Does everybodyhaveto ask that?” the guy muttered. “And I’m sorry I interrupted—”
“What do you need,” Daniel demanded. “Whatever it is, I’m there.”
Gus lowered his arm, looked at them both, and then focused on Daniel. “I need you to teach me how to shoot a gun.”
Lydia lifted her eyebrows. “Why would you…”
But then she looked at the side of his neck, where there was a burn mark—and figured, maybe it was for personal protection. And who could blame the man?
“Yeah,” Daniel said grimly. “I can do that.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
IT WAS RIGHTat dawn that Daniel stepped out the back of Phalen’s house. As he took a deep breath, his lungs threatened to cough on him, but he exhaled quick and told himself not to get ahead of things. Then again, it was in the nature of knuckleheaded men to bust a nut and feel like Paul Bunyan.
Which would make him a model for paper towels, he supposed.
